


Aevum

by Tyranno



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Sparring, just a short scene I thought about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: At 23, Jim returned to Trollmarket for the first time in five years.





	

“Draa-aal...” A voice spoke quietly, barely audible above the clatter and murmur of the bar.

Draal ignored it, taking a long sip of his grog.

“For the glory of Merlin,” A voice whispered somewhere behind Draal, silhouetted in the corner of his eye by the dim light of the tavern’s lamp, “Daylight is mine to command.”

Draal didn’t need to turn. The blinding white-blue light gave Jim’s position away completely. Although the amulet possessed many impressive traits, subtlety wasn’t one of them. He finished his grog in a gulp, dropped the wooden flagon back on the bar and turned to the flesh-bag.

“C’mon, Draal,” Jim batted at Draal’s knees with the flat of his great sword, “I’m only back in Arcadia for a few days, let’s go spar! Like old times!”

“You humans wouldn’t know old times if it stared you in the face,” Draal rumbled, raising an eyebrow at Jim.

“’cause it currently _is_ staring me in the face,” Jim rolled his eyes, dispelling his sword in a burst of blue flame. There was a new scar on Jim’s face: a thin line across the hinge of his jaw. Draal didn’t ask, letting himself be led back to the Hero’s forge. He still towered over the boy, but he was coming up to Draal’s chest rather than his elbows these days.

The glowing crystals on Trollmarket’s walls shimmered across the armour—blue, pink, yellow—like smooth water. It shifted and changed in the light, the hair-thin markings barely visible except when the light caught them right. The same markings were broad enough over his father’s back to run a claw down the grooves.

Jim bounded ahead, through the winding streets of Trollmarket, echoed by a wave of bright greetings from the citizens. He mostly sprinted, but occasionally, seemingly at random, he stopped and stared at something for a long moment before continuing.

They reached the hero’s forge and Jim paused in the centre, bouncing on his heels. He stretched and the plates of armour slid smoothly over each other like an intricate machine.

“I think you’ll be surprised,” Draal said, shaking out his great shoulders. He rose to his full height, eclipsing Jim in his huge shadow. “I’ve not been slacking off in your absence, Trollhunter. I have learned many things.”

“Oh yeah?” Jim bounced from foot to foot, bright eyes lighting up. He summoned his swords with a flick of his wrist. “Well, let’s see it, big guy.”

Draal grinned through gritted teeth.

A great grinding shook the stone and the platforms began to separate and rise under them, and Jim was already moving, scaling the stone to the top. His grin was replaced by a furrowed brow.

Draal thundered after him, shaking the stone. He snatched at Jim, but Jim was flipping over him, catching the spines of his back and knocking him off balance. Draal collided with the stone floor but managed to latch onto Jim, throwing him into the next platform.

Jim met stone, hard. A blossom of blue escaped the gaps in his armour but he pushed himself quickly to his feet, cradling his ribs.

Draal flew at him. They collided with a terrible clatter, skidding across the gritty stone. Jim was trapped between Draal’s arms, crushed against his chest. He wriggled restlessly.

“Yield?” Draal asked, squeezing him tighter. The sunlight leaking from the armour stung his chest.

Jim writhed, the metal digging into Draal’s arms. With a sharp twist of his hips he raised his feet to kick Draal in the knees, launching himself free. He hit the stone and rolled to his feet, summoning his sword and bringing in the cracking down.

Draal flinched back, missing the swing by inches and was forced back by another scything sweep of the sword. Jim leapt after him, skidding behind him. Before Draal could turn he felt the sword ghost the back of his knees and he recoiled, loosing his balance and hitting the stone.

Jim leapt onto his chest, staring down at him. He crouched over him, grinning. “Yield?”

Draal glared.

Jim buried the sword in the stone next to Draal’s neck.

“That doesn’t count,” Draal said, pushing himself up. “If I had been bigger, stronger, that first yield would have been your death.”

“I know,” Jim said, summoning the sword to his hand. He scowled, slipping down from the platforms before he could be turfed off.

“Is there something on your mind?” Draal followed him.

“Not really,” Jim scratched the back of his neck. “I think… I think it’s just I’m less afraid these days. This many crazy things being dealt with, and it’s hard to get jumpy when it’s just a mean gnome or a leprechaun that’s drunk off his ass.”

“Complacency is the fatal flaw of any Trollhunter,” Draal said, frowning.

“I guess that’s why a Trollhunter’s supposed to work alone,” Jim said, watching the platforms turn and shift above them, the orange glow of the machine’s heart spreading over them. “No one to rely on that way.”

Draal followed Jim’s gaze to the machine, and forced his frown to relax. It would be hopeless to try to convince Jim to distance himself from the people he loved. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, anyway. Jim wasn’t like any other Trollhunter. Why should the rules apply to him? Draal cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject, “What brings you back to Arcadia?”

Jim glanced at him, “High school reunion.”

“Reunion?” Draal frowned.

“It’s been five years or so,” Jim banished his sword. “I’m excited to see them again. I wonder if Eli really has set up that tech company yet. Everyone will have changed so much.”

Draal shook his head. Five years did not seem nearly enough time to change, but humans were such strange creatures.

“I’m only worried about the dance afterwards,” Jim said, “I ticked plus one but I don’t actually have a date.”

Draal lifted his head, “Why don’t you take Miss Nuñez?”

“Claire?” Jim laughed, “Oh man, I haven’t talked to her in forever.”

Draal frowned, “I thought you and her were close?”

“Yeah, when I was in highschool,” Jim ran a hand through his hair, exposing old tooth marks on the nape of his neck. “We broke it off donkey’s years ago. I think she’s engaged now.”

Draal frowned harder, “That was fast.”

Jim frowned back at him, although his tone was light. “Not _that_ fast,” He said, “You’re thinking of it like a Troll. We humans do stuff at less of a snail’s pace.”

Draal studied the young Trollhunter. The human was taller and bulkier, and hardly a boy at all now. He’d lost the puppy fat from his face and had grown clear and angular, thin scars breaking up a ghost of stubble on a sharp jaw. His shoulders were wider, and cut a broad silhouette.

It felt like only yesterday that unsure boy had stumbled into the Trollmarket, sticking close to Arrrgh, jumping at shadows. Only yesterday the boy had pulled him up, over the edge of the arena. Only yesterday he had taken the amulet from the rubble of his hand and helped him stand.

Draal watched the human scale the platforms nimbly, reaching the top to switch it off. The glint and flicker of his armour left imprints on Draal’s eyes.

He realised that even back then, when the human was still a child, he had been changing. Humans were not made of stone like Trolls were, and, like pristine glass, they attracted smudges and cracks. The boy learnt through scars, and lightning fast. The boy learnt to defend in weeks, reached Draal’s level in months. The level of skill that would take a Troll decades to learn was mastered in days. It was near overwhelming.

Jim banished his armour in a burst of blue, slipping the amulet into his pocket. “I’ve gotta hit the road, but I’ll try to make it down here again before I’ve gotta go back. I’ll even bring Claire, I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

Draal nodded, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aevum means time in latin. Not sure if this is entirely canon-compliant, but let's hope Jim doesn't actually die/turn evil in Darklands :D


End file.
